Car Dealerships in the Bowels of Hell

Actually they were in the bowels of Van Nuys. But when it's 110 in the shade (what a great name for a musical!) Van Nuys Boulevard does feel like the bowels of hell. Except there are more pawn shops than in hell. In fact, there are no car dealerships in hell, because everyone is forced to walk or take the bus (two versions of hell to anyone in Los Angeles).

We were on the streets of Van Nuys at the peak of the day's heat because STEVE GOT A JOB!

I write that like I'm surprised he did, and I'm not. He's got good skill sets and a great personality, so who wouldn't want to hire him? He had had an initial interview that went very well, and a second interview with both partners in the firm, and on Thursday last he was offered the job. The pay is 10 percent above his last position, which is a plus, but it's also in Van Nuys (about 22 miles away from Pasadena) so that's a nonplus. Basically, it means his entire raise would be eaten up by the cost of gas to and from the job. So he turned to my expertise on riding the commuter rails here in L.A., and asked me to go on a trip with him, tracing what his daily commute would be on the Metro system.

We took off from the Lake Avenue Gold Line station at 11:45. His commute will take him on the Gold Line into Union Station, then on the Red Line to North Hollywood, then on the Orange line to Van Nuys and, finally, on the bus up Van Nuys Boulevard to Victory Boulevard, which is about a block from his new work.

We clocked the commute at about one hour and forty minutes via this route. And we were lucky enough to get most of the local color, like the crackhead homies who never stop talking, with 70 percent of their vocabulary made up of the words "fuck," "shit" and "nigger" (or variations on them). There's the women I refer to as zombie munchkins: Diminutive ladies who get on the train or bus and stand, blocking the passages and doors, ignoring everyone and staring into space with hard little resentful pouts on their faces. If they have a baby stroller, they can be downright dangerous.

Then there's the religious zealots who often speak no English at all, gesticulating and trying to save you in their own peculiar tongues. And don't forget the acrobatic schizophrenics, a peculiar subgenre who talk and gesticulate angrily at the demons sitting next to them who are tormenting and saying unpleasant things. And, of course, the people who are talking on their cell phones until you notice that they have no phone and are conversing with their own imaginary friends.

Don't get me wrong, you may meet one of these specialities once or twice a month on the average commute: They don't like traveling during the rush hours. But on the weekends they seem to ride just for the fun of it.

On a brighter note, there's also a commuter express bus (more like a tour bus) that leaves from the Lake Avenue station and travels directly into the San Fernando Valley, stopping at Van Nuys Boulevard. It might be a little nicer, but it doesn't run as frequently. Also, there is his car and the freeways; the old-fashioned way to get around L.A. So Steve's going to drive in, at least for the first week, then check out the other modes and see which form of transport works best for him. And like I keep telling everyone, you don't have to take the train, but it's always an economic option.

So now we're both commuting 20-some miles from Pasadena to work. The poor cats will have to wait for someone to get home at seven or so in the evenings to feed them dinner. Poor puddy tats.

More as Steve's job progresses or hot things explode in Hollywood.

And, oh yeah, my cousin Robin is showing up on "The Bold and the Beautiful" every day now. She hasn't left Paris yet, but it's only a matter of time. Tune in at 12:30 p.m. PDT on CBS (check your local listings) and watch what happens.

And Click here to see her interview on the red carpet at the Daytime Emmys at the Kodak Theater in Hollywood (and see a lovely advertisement beforehand)!